


Crash Landing

by EndlessMidnightSky



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Maximum Ride - James Patterson
Genre: 74th Games, Alternating chapters, F/M, Fang POV, Friendship, Gen, Struggle to survive, Thresh POV, Wheat field, growing friendship, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessMidnightSky/pseuds/EndlessMidnightSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Separated from the Flock by flying through the forcefield and being unable to fly out again, Fang crash lands in the arena during the 74th Hunger Games. Quickly discovered by the giant from District 11, Fang and Thresh now have to survive the Games together.<br/>If they don't kill each other first, of course.<br/>Not slash. Canon pairings only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically what happens when I take two of my favourite characters, throw them into the same story and watch to see what happens. I've always wanted to write my own version of Thresh's side of the Hunger Games, so here it is. With a crossover twist.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

I’ve never been a deep sleeper. Even before this whole mess started, the slightest noise that was out of place would wake me instantly. It had helped me several times for various reasons, but I’d never really understood how useful it was until I was reaped for the 74th Hunger Games.

Of course, here there are so many out of place noises that I barely get any sleep at all, but it’s better to get little sleep and stay alive than to sleep deeply and get caught off guard and killed. I stay up to watch the skies to see who’s been killed. Eleven were killed on the first day during the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. The revelation had made me shudder.

I myself had next to no part in the bloodbath. I was there long enough to grab a blanket and a backpack which held an empty water carrier, a loaf of Capitol bread, a pair of night glasses (which I was most pleased with) and a sleeping bag. The sleeping bag’s made of some kind of material which reflected body heat back in to keep me warm, but to fit into it, I had to tuck my knees in so they were practically against my chin.

Better than freezing to death in the middle of the night.

I think it’s the fifth day of the Games, but it’s hard to keep track. On the first day, I found a field of tall grasses that came up to my shoulder. Some of them are wheat. There’s a small stream running down the middle of the field, making it the perfect hiding spot. Tall grass to hide in and also ambush anyone who comes in, I can eat the wheat and drink the water, although I have to treat it first to make it safe.

The Careers know I’m here, I heard them on the first day after the bloodbath, debating whether to come in after me or not. In the end they decided against it. Who wants to come in after the great dark giant from District 11 when he could be right behind you, ready to snap your neck? Not exactly the most inviting situation.

But whilst listening to the Careers argue amongst themselves, I had learned something which had both shocked and shaken me.

The boy from District 12 who was in love with his partner had joined the Careers.

This shocked me more than hearing of the deaths of the eleven tributes in the first day. I had been sure the boy would form an alliance with the girl considering he was in love with her…so why had he joined the group who were hell bent on killing her? It made no sense to me. Unless…unless he would try to draw them away from her. Yes, that was a possibility A dangerous, risky option, but if he was really in love, he’d take that risk.

I would for Rue.

 ~0~

I lay back in the long grasses, staring up at the clear sky. Day five (I think) in the Hunger Games and Rue, tiny Rue is still alive. But for how much longer? I push the thought quickly form my mind. The thought of her lying cold and dead is too much to bare.

A cannon went off yesterday, a few minutes after a huge explosion shook the air. Unable to help myself, I had left the security of the wheat field for the first time to see what had happened. What I found was a pleasant surprise to say the least.

The land around the cornucopia had been practically blown to bits, the charred remains of supplies and weapons littered here and there. I’m not smart, but it didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened, especially with Fox Girl standing in the middle of the whole thing and laughing delightedly.

I watched the skies that night as I always did and prayed that whoever the canon had sounded for, it wasn’t Rue. It had been the boy from District three. The relief that Rue was still alive was great, but I felt upset about losing the boy from three even though I never knew him.

Who knows how much longer this nightmare is going to go on for? Who knows who’s going to be the lucky one to survive and go home? Personally, I think the odds are in Fire Girl’s favour. That eleven in training’s got to count for something and her show in the Parade is bound to get her several sponsors.

But if she wins, Rue will die. Rue’s only twelve and so small. Her skills of tree climbing and jumping are her best chances, but they can’t keep her alive forever. Even if she makes it to the last two, she’ll have to fight to win. But who will she be fighting? I pray it’s not me. I couldn’t kill her, even if it ensured my own survival. I don’t want to kill anyone if I can help it, but I could if that’s what it came down to.

But not Rue.

Sighing, I close my eyes as the sun begins to set. I hate this so much. The Games are a complete, psychotic mess. Pitting child against child… It’s just barbaric. Barbaric, horrific and…

‘Shit!’

My eyes snap open at the yell and I get to my feet quickly, but stay low so my head doesn’t show above the grass. The voice seemed to have come from above me, but how was that possible? There are no trees for several hundred yards at least.

I look up.

A dark shape is blotting out the early sun and speeding towards the ground… Falling. But what the heck is it? Too big for a bird and it had spoken. I watch it fall. Then, just twenty or so metres above the ground, it throws out two enormous black wings. The wings catch the air and slows the creature’s descent, but doesn’t stop it and I hear the thud as it vanishes out of sight and hits the ground.

For a moment, I stand frozen, trying to figure out what the heck it had been. It had fallen not to far away in the grasses and would no doubt eventually stumble upon me and my camp if it could walk. The question is, should I find out what it is first or wait and hope it doesn’t find me?

I hate not knowing things.

Grabbing a nearby rock, about the size of a loaf of bread, I slowly begin to make my way towards where I saw the creature land.

 ~0~

It’s a muttation. It has to be.

People don’t have pitch black, eight foot long _wings_ growing from their backs! Even people from the Capitol haven’t gone that far.

It’s lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, the earth around him dented from the impact. I’m surprised it’s alive after such a fall from the height it must’ve been flying at, but mutts often have a much higher durability than normal creatures. But this thing is unlike any other muttation I’ve ever seen or heard about.

Under the cover of feathers and wings, the little of its body I can see looks disturbingly human. I heard it speak as it fell and…is it wearing clothes? Yes. They’re black like its wings and rather grubby although I’m hardly one to talk (no pun intended). I watch from the cover of the tall grasses, several yards away. It’s alive, I can tell that much, but I think it’s unconscious.

I should kill it now before it wakes up. Muttations are never good news. The only good that’s ever come out of them are the Mockingjays.

My fingers tighten around the rock in my hand as I slowly begin to make my way towards it. Before I’m halfway, a low groan comes from it and it shifts, pushing itself up. I crouch down slightly to be better hidden, then freeze.

‘Dammit.’ There’s the voice again. Low, quiet, similar to mine.

The mutt’s sitting up now and my eyes widen.

It’s a boy. I’d guess he’s about sixteen or seventeen, but definitely human. Or human looking… The dark wings behind him pull up, then fold loosely against his back but the movement draws my attention to one of his arms, dangling uselessly and clearly dislocated. The mutt notices this at the same time as I do and a scowl crosses his face. Then, without a word, he grips the dislocated limb with his other hand and shoves it back into place with only a slight hiss of pain.

Great.

Not only is this thing able to fly and survive falls from high places, it can apparently endure a lot of pain. And now I’ve lost my initial strategy of taking it out before it wakes up.

I back up slightly. Its head snaps up.

‘Who’s there?’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, chapter two and the actual meeting. Personally, I think they're both a little OOC because they're talking so much. But considering neither of them are exactly of the chatter sort, having them together was hard to figure out for conversation.  
> Oh well.  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter.

I never planned on crash landing in the middle of a field surrounded by forest. Why the hell would I plan on doing something stupid like that?

I’d been flying along with the flock as per usual and I was lower than everyone else. Then I felt as if I’d flown through a sort of bubble, but when I tried to fly out of it again, it repelled me and… Well I’m sure you can figure out the rest. Fortunately, I’m relatively unhurt, although my now un-dislocated arm hurts like hell, but at least I can move it.

I look around, trying to work out exactly where I’ve crashed. Something rustles in the bushes and my head snaps towards it.

‘Who’s there?’ I demand. As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel kind of stupid. I mean… It could be an animal and unless they’ve been genetically enhanced like Total… Animals can’t talk. However, they can be dangerous.

I stand up and turn to where the noise came from, my eyes skating over the long grasses, looking for any signs of what it could’ve been.

_There._

I can just make out a slight shape in the tall grasses. It’s big and dark… Eraser. But they were all retired! Ari was the last one, how could this one still be alive? No time to think, I launch myself at it at the same moment a large rock comes flying towards my head. I only just dodge it. Have they been degraded from guns to rocks now?

The Eraser stands up and backs away, making my first attack miss. I land easily and whip back around to face him. Dark skinned, at least two, if not three inches taller than my 6’4” and face twisted into a grimace of determination. He’s lost his rock, it’s hand to hand now. From what I can see, he’s not one of the new versions and so has no wings. Advantage: Fang.

He rounds on me and grabs my shoulders, forcing me back, but then I get a grip on him as well and now it’s like a wrestling match. Damn, he’s strong! But all the Erasers are. The good thing is that they’re not very agile although they can be very quick. I’m smaller than he is, maybe I can use that to my advantage.

Suddenly I let go of him, pulling backwards so his own momentum makes him fall off balance. Instantly I dart around and kick him in the side, toppling him onto the ground. Then I pin him there and punch him in the jaw.

‘Give up, dog breath and I might let you go,’ I snarl, raising my fist for another assault. Confusion crosses his face for a split second.

‘I give up and you let me go?’ he asks. His voice is deep and smooth, but lacks the usual oily undertone of most Erasers.

‘Possibly.’ He scowls.

‘Some mutt, letting people go.’

‘ _I’m_ a mutt? Please, don’t make me laugh, dog boy.’ Clearly this Eraser wasn’t gifted with brains.

‘Who’s laughing?’ he growls. ‘And I’m not a dog.’

‘Could’ve fooled me.’ Suddenly a sound echoes through the air. A cannon. What is this, the middle ages?

The Eraser’s eyes harden and he suddenly twists out of my grip, standing up.

‘Sixteen down,’ he whispers, pain flickering across his face. Then he turns back to me, clearly ready to attack me again.

‘Sixteen down?’ I repeat. What the hell is he on about?

He nods, then composes his expression and punches me hard in the chest. Due to my confusion over what he meant by sixteen down, I don’t have time to block his attack. It catches me head on and knocks the breath out of me. I stumble back several steps and he punched me again, this time knocking me to the ground. He tries to pin me down, but I kick him off and flip our positions so now I’m holding him down, my long fingers trapping his dark wrists. I’ve never seen a dark skinned Eraser before.

‘Alright, creep. I want answers. What does “sixteen down” mean?’ I demand. He keeps struggling against me and I have to use all my strength to keep him pinned.

‘You can talk, you should know,’ he replies, hatred in his dark eyes.

‘How the hell should I know?’

‘You probably helped kill some of them!’

_What?!_

‘I haven’t killed anyone.’

‘Why you here then?’

‘I fell.’ Surely he’d seen…

‘No, in the arena. You here to kill.’ This was just getting more and more confusing by the second.

‘What arena? Why would I be here to kill?’ I demand. ‘Is this some sort of sick experiment the bastards at the School dreamt up?!’

‘School?’

‘The science lab. Whatever. Where you were created.’ Now he’s looking at me as if I’m completely insane.

‘I wasn’t…’ he trails off as another cannon echoes across the field. His eyes tighten.

‘Seventeen.’ The word is quiet. Barely even a whisper.

‘Seventeen down?’ I ask. He nods once, glaring at the sky behind me. ‘And why do you think I killed some of them?’

‘You’re a mutt.’

‘ _You’re_ the dog here,’ I snap back.

‘ _Muttation_.’

‘Dumbass, it’s _mutation_.’

‘Not.’ This isn’t going anywhere.

‘Who are they? The ones I apparently helped kill?’

He shakes his head. ‘You really don’t know?’

‘No, you damn Eraser, of course I bloody don’t know!’

Silence.

‘Eraser?’ he repeats slowly.

‘Or human-lupine hybrid.’ The Erasers might not know the flock’s slang.

‘I… Don’t understand,’ he admits after a pause. He’s stopped struggling, but I don’t loosen my grip.

‘It’s what you are, moron!’ I snap.

‘I’m not a hybrid.’ I scoff.

‘Sure you’re not.’

‘If I were a hybrid, wouldn’t I look part animal?’

That stumps me for a second. The Erasers normally shift to their wolfy selves when fighting because it gives them the advantage of fangs and claws. He hasn’t. He still looks completely human.

‘What are you then?’ I demand.

‘Human,’ he replies simply.

‘Prove it.’

‘How?’

That is… A good question. We both stare at each other in silence, trying to figure the other out.

‘You have wings,’ he says after a few minutes. I shake them out in reply. ‘How?’

‘I _am_ a hybrid,’ I reply.

‘Why haven’t you killed me then?’

‘I don’t kill.’

‘All mutts kill. S’why they’re there.’

‘Well maybe I’m not a mutt then.’ I’m beginning to get annoyed again.

‘So what are you?’

‘I’m a hybrid, but I wasn’t created to kill.’

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Why should I believe you’re not an Eraser?’ That shuts him up. ‘If I was one of these “mutts”, wouldn’t I have killed you by now?’

‘Yes.’

‘And have I?’

‘No.’

‘So I’m not a mutt.’ Silence again. I can practically see his mind figuring this out.

‘Alright,’ he finally says quietly.

I’m also thinking he’s not an Eraser. He doesn’t seem to know about the School, he hasn’t shifted to look wolfy, his eyes are warm, unlike the cold, calculating, bloodthirsty eyes of the Erasers and his voice lacks the sly undertone. Very slowly, I release my grip on his wrists and step back. He gets up, his eyes never leaving me in case I attack him again. But I don’t. We both regard each other and I fold my wings in, feeling a little self conscious.

‘You have a name?’ he asks.

‘Not for you,’ I reply. Eraser he might not be, but by no means did that mean I was just going to trust him. I don’t even bother asking for his name. Why would he give it when I wouldn’t give mine?

‘What does sixteen, seventeen down mean?’ I finally ask, breaking the silence. Pain and anger flits across his face.

‘Sixteen, seventeen dead,’ he replies quietly. I blink. ‘The cannon means a death.’

‘What is this place?’

He stares at me like I’m crazy. Like that is a question no one should have to ask. But this is me and the flock and I aren’t exactly up to date on a lot of things.

‘The Arena,’ he replies and I can hear an undertone of hate evident in his voice.

‘The arena for what?’ He shakes his head. ‘Come on, tell me.’

‘Lucky you don’t know,’ he whispers.

Ok, so clearly this is worse than I originally anticipated.

‘An arena where people are sent to die?’ I guess.

‘Close enough.’

‘Well, what then?!’

He pauses, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell me. For a moment, I don’t think he will, but then he looks up.

‘Last one alive wins.’

My eyes widen slightly, the Fang version of complete astonishment, as I realise what he means.

‘You have to kill each other?!’ I ask, horror colouring my tone. He nods once, his expression hard.

‘It’s called The Hunger Games.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~EndlessMidnightSky~

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting the other chapters soon.  
> Please give feedback on what you do and don't like so i can improve. Flames will be used to bake cookies.  
> ~EndlessMidnightSky~


End file.
